


Mind trick.

by yankmywand



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Death, Pre and Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1391857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yankmywand/pseuds/yankmywand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian struggles with remembering things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind trick.

In a lifetime of abuse, there had been no less of it since he met James Moriarty. Though there was something different about the abuse, which Jim dealt with a steady hand than the abuse his father had performed out of something that Sebastian recognised as duty. In Jim’s eyes, it was used as punishment, education, a way to scare Sebastian into thinking he wasn’t worth more than the lashes of the belt to his back, or the hands that slowly choked him. It worked better than he thought Jim would have anticipated, because Sebastian learned to be a subordinate to his father, to his commander, and now, to Jim.

The cigarette burned out in his fingers, he’d not put it out, neither had he sucked on it for the last three minutes. Sebastian found himself dropping it to the porch outside the building before he unlocked the door and walked up the stairs. The reason to these thoughts entering his mind was not that they were usually there, poking at the back of his mind like the cane his father had used, no, it was because he knew that he’d fucked up. That he’d killed three out of four targets, and now there was squeaking mouse running back to his den where he would have information on the fact that someone were going to kill them.

But then again, maybe Jim wouldn’t require him to kill all four. Maybe, he thought, Jim wouldn’t mind it, and let him go about his business; cleaning the rifle, removing his bloody clothing and letting him take a shower.

He was wrong.

“Jim?” Sebastian’s usual bark was replaced with a soft mewl, and he leaned against the door as he tugged off his boots, leaving them in a pile by the door.

No response. He called again, a little louder, but there was still no response to get from the man who would usually be waiting for Sebastian behind the door, pressing him down to the floor if he’d done something bad, like he’d done this time. Jim would know it by now, wouldn’t he?

Walking into the flat, Sebastian looked around. Everything was as tidy, per the usual. Jim’s magazines in a pile by the fireplace, the glass table meticulously clean, not even a scratch. Sebastian blinked and wondered if he’d stepped into three months ago. That was when it hit him. He _had_.

Jim wasn’t there. He hadn’t been there for three months. Jim was dead.

He’d unlocked the flat, walked inside and thought he’d see Jim. But he wouldn’t. Because Jim shot himself three months before. Sebastian swallowed and felt a nausea rise in his chest.

Everything made sense. Jim knew Sebastian, and knew that keeping him preoccupied would help with the grief. Sebastian would do everything that Jim told him, and if there was a job planned in his phone, he would most certainly do it without thought. In a matter of seconds, he ran towards the bathroom, emptied his stomach contents into the toilet bowl, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Jim was gone. Sebastian had conjured some sort of image of Jim still being there. In the flat where Sebastian had lived with him. Together. Now alone.

It was all a lie, now. The fact that he had actually thought that Jim would be there, waiting with the belt in his hands, ready to punish Sebastian, hurt worse than the actual punishment itself. He slid down to sit with his back against the tile wall, shaking with something he couldn’t describe with all the curse words he knew. He closed his eyes, pressed the back of his head against the tiles, reaching for his phone, and with shaky hands found the contact ‘Boss’.

He waited three, four beeps, before he heard the voice again. Clear as day.

“ _You’ve reached M. State your business, name and number, and I’ll get back to you. Eventually.”_

Sebastian pushed the phone against his forehead and whispered, “Don’t be dead."

 

 


End file.
